// [ slaps forehead ] another day of suddenly remembering i have a yen acc skksks

rip up their flesh and reveal them to be nothing but the dreamy, voidless haze of lavender and godhood with your virtue shredding teeth.

—— archived.

you were made for beautiful things. chaos is only understood when it is loved by the wild, not the weak.

who hasn't ever wondered: am i a monster or is this what it means to be a person?

the sorceress has returned from her relaxing time in 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕 ; she sees that once again, no one is in possession of a sound mind ( save herself, as she well knows ).

who's a heretic, child?

truly, what is the purpose of a holiday if everyone aggravates her upon her return ? she pinches the bridge of her nose with a frown. ❝ hello — bard. jaskier. you would do well to turn down that noise. ❞

her comb & mirror are floating before her as usual, as she prepares to face the day. she's still in a foul mood, however. tread with caution.

maybe i'd been tender once. soft and frail, doe—eyed and naïve. i walked that sweet, little lamb to slaughter.

// “sandy when will you write here” never bc i suck, i’m just gonna rt emotional poetry here until i die

// anyway it’s HUGE self-doubt, reconsidering life hours

// 👇👇👇👇👇

—— archived.

you wear an ancestor's face. you look like a woman you'll never meet. in that mirror, there's thousands of you. and in the bath, when you look down, she looks back, shaking and deforming the ripples as she lies beneath the surface.